


He does not falter

by insufferableG



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, But he wasn't always like that, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Do It For Him (Fingolfin), Feanor is The Worst, Gen, Like - it's the Silm, Nolofinwe needs a hug, So..., again - it's the Silm, and his Brain Journey up until Mithrim, bc he ain't met no Sindar yet, but just for some dark themes, especially when they point swords at you, i wrote this for tumblr but it was Too Long, i wrote this last year and wasn't comfy enough with the lore to include sisters, less story more stream of thoughts about fingolfin tbh, may redo this some time with Lalwen, questionable formatting, questionable spelling of Quenya names, rated t just to be safe, siblings are complicated, then abandon you and die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28016019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insufferableG/pseuds/insufferableG
Summary: No one talk to me about Nolofinwë who did everything he could to reconcile with Fëanáro, who mourned for Finwë just as strongly though he swore no oaths.Nolofinwë who follows his brother (whatever Fëanáro said) onto the shores of the ice and trusts him even after he’d killed the Teleri.Nolofinwë who woke up and saw the ships gone and felt again the point of his brother’s naked sword on his chest."They’ll come back. They’ll come back for us."
Relationships: (mentioned) - Relationship, Anairë/Fingolfin | Ñolofinwë, Fëanor | Curufinwë & Fingolfin | Ñolofinwë
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	He does not falter

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this more than a year ago for Tumblr but the formatting is a mess so... here it is I guess :)

No one talk to me about Nolofinwë who did everything he could to reconcile with Fëanáro, who mourned for Finwë just as strongly though he swore no oaths.

Nolofinwë who follows his brother (whatever Fëanáro said) onto the shores of the ice and trusts him even after he’d killed the Teleri.

Nolofinwë who woke up and saw the ships gone and felt again the point of his brother’s naked sword on his chest.

_They’ll come back. They’ll come back for us_.

Who gathers his children to him, “they won’t leave us here. They will come back.” Nolofinwë who sees the glow of the ships and is so, so angry. Who truly hates Fëanáro for the first time in his life (whatever had been said before). Who only breaks down and cries in the privacy of his tent - he hears Findekáno and Irissë next door (Finno is shouting, Irissë’s voice has gone cold in a way he has never heard).

Nolofinwë who burns with vengeance for his father for his home and now for his people. He thinks he might hate Fëanáro more than Moringotto. ( _After all, he had never loved the Vala_.)

The anger keeps him going, keeps him leading his people. But he doesn’t forget why they started - he is coming for Moringotto, to avenge his father and free the dark lands whether Fëanáro wanted him there or not.

Nolofinwë who watches his people die, helpless as his daughter slips beneath the ice (never in-law, family is family and he is sick of qualifications) helpless as Turukáno turn to stone. So many fade away in despair. ( _Is it worth it?)_ Every death is another Kinslaying and he will hold Fëanáro accountable.

Nolofinwë who came to Beleriand Unconquered at the rising of the moon, who beat upon the gates of Angband and heralded the sun. ( _see Moringotto? I’m here. My spirit is stronger than your lies. I am angry and I am wounded but I am not afraid_.)

*

Nolofinwë whose children made it across the ice only for his youngest son to be cut down in blood and fire (for the first time in years he has the Dark Lord to blame). He chokes and grieves and a piece of himself has died as well, but he does not falter.

Nolofinwë who stopped burning somewhere along the Helcaraxë, whose anger has frozen hard and sharp and bitter. Fëanáro was always fire, but Nolofinwë has become ice. His rage and hurt are lodged within him. They leave no room for despair, no room for fear.

Nolofinwë who reaches Mithrim with unnumbered weak and wounded and exhausted elves and sets up camp. He does not know what he will do when he sees Fëanáro. He doesn’t think he wants to kill him... ( _See brother, I don’t need you. I walked where you would not and I didn’t need to kill anyone to get here_. Elenwë’s pale face blinks sadly behind his eyes - _that was your doing, not mine not mine not mine_ ).

Nolofinwë who does not hope that maybe he was mistaken, that maybe Fëanáro was assailed upon landing. He does not hope that his brother will rush forward and embrace him and reveal that it was The Enemy’s flames that sundered them. He does not. _He does not_.

Nolofinwë who dons his courtly manner along with his armour and rides to the other side of the lake. There is nothing inside him but The Anger - he imagines that it grinds and cracks with the motion of his breath. Nolofinwë who approaches the camp with trumpets and banners. Who waits for Fëanáro to ride forth with even greater fanfare (he did so love a show). He will demand answers. He will demand reparations. He will deny Fëanáro’s claim to the crown. He will...

But Fëanáro is gone - beaten and killed and burnt to ashes by his own ire.

*

Nolofinwë whose anger shatters and caves in, who barely hears Makalaurë and Findekáno hissing at one another (Nelyo is gone too - beautiful, clever firstborn Nelyo, a bridge between their houses for all the spite that had gone into naming him.)

Nolofinwë who is suddenly just... empty. Who came ready for a fight, who at this point expected anything but **this** from Fëanáro. Who, until this point, he realises, didn’t really think his brother could die.

Nolofinwë who finds himself standing before a fatherless boy – _Makalaurë’s not a boy he’s as guilty as the rest_ \- with haunted eyes and not a single instrument on his person and a crown on his head. And he doesn’t know what to do.

Nolofinwë who returns to camp and does his duty and tries to speak to his son, but Findekáno is wild-eyed and seething and will not be soothed (“they didn’t even try to get him back they just left him how could they the **cowards** ”). Who leaves Turukáno in charge for a few hours and walks to the edge of the lake and tries to make sense of the cavern that has opened up inside him.

Who cannot imagine a world without his brother (he tries not to think about Oaths and Darkness). Whose life has been shaped by admiring Fëanáro, loving and yearning to be loved by Fëanáro, competing with Fëanáro, laughing with Fëanáro, fighting with Fëanáro, opposing Fëanáro, fearing Fëanáro, reconciling with Fëanáro, following Fëanáro, trusting Fëanáro, hating Fëanáro. It is inconceivable that he is just gone. _It is not Fair. How Dare He._

Nolofinwë who has been cheated of his hatred by a brother who always did have to have the last word.

Nolofinwë who is still so angry but the hurt and the sadness have all come rushing back. He cannot really cry - hasn’t since the night the ships burned - but he heaves dry sobs all the same.

Nolofinwë who remembers that for all that Fëanáro had loathed Indis, even he hadn’t always managed to hate her children.

Nolofinwë who remembers falling off a horse he shouldn’t have been riding, being picked up by strong arms, his brother’s voice chasing the shock away (“How did you know where I was?” “I followed you, idiot boy - Dëator is far too big for you.”)

Nolofinwë who remembers a wide and wicked grin before Fëanáro pushed him into Anairë on the dance floor ( _don’t think of her can’t think of her I’m sorry my love_ ).

Nolofinwë who remembers shoving baby Arafinwë ( _the wisest of us - I miss you I miss you)_ at Fëanáro, watching him instinctively cradle their little brother, stroke his fair hair, murmur oh-so gently as the child babbled. (Mother had once pointed out that Fëanáro could never resist babies - it was their growing up and having Opinions that he objected to.)

Nolofinwë remembers shocked silence, the odour of fresh-forged metal, the gleam of Fëanáro’s armour, sharp weight against his breastbone, familiar eyes turned to furnaces. He remembers his first taste of fear, and the familiar, dull disappointment as Father chose his first son again.

Nolofinwë remembers the embrace they shared before the world went dark - firm and strong and hopeful. he remembers daring to imagine they might finally be a family.

Nolofinwë remembers riding between Fëanáro and Arafinwë - home behind and darkness ahead but his brothers were at his side and there was no elf or god or monster that could waylay them. (How naive)

Nolofinwë remembers seven little boys, precocious and perfect and utterly ignorant of family enmity. He remembers seven terrible faces in the firelight, seven bloodstained swords (nine, he corrects himself - his own Findekáno and Irissë are not spared the Doom for all their attempted heroism). He remembers a child with a harp too heavy to lift and Makalaurë’s hopeless face. He remembers a gangly boy with endless questions and he hopes that Maitimo died quickly. ( _These things too, are on your head, brother_.)

Nolofinwë remembers bloody water and the fire and the trail of unnumbered frozen dead.

Nolofinwë sits there all this strange new night, lost in memories of good and evil and all things in between. He mourns for his brother, but he will never forgive him.

Of all the terrible, spiteful things Fëanáro has done, dying might just be the worst.


End file.
